


Four Things the MacManus Brothers Know About Each Other and One Thing They Have Forgotten

by inkgeek



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: 4 Things, Animal Death, Brotherly Love, Gen, Hospitals, Slurs, Stillbirth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 08:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2645036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkgeek/pseuds/inkgeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Answering questions such as "who is better at what?," "are the boys dog people or cat people?," "who was born first?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Things the MacManus Brothers Know About Each Other and One Thing They Have Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WORK IS NOT TO BE PUBLISHED OR REPRODUCED ANYWHERE (IN PRINT OR ONLINE) BY ANYONE EXCEPT MYSELF OR THOSE WITH EXPLICIT WRITTEN PERMISSION

1.  
Connor is better at maths. Always has been. He’s wicked quick at sums. Murphy is better at art. He designed most of their tattoos himself. They’re pretty much equal on everything else.

They’re both decent singers, but they very, very rarely sing in front of others. Mostly only at Mass. They know pretty much every Irish Drinking Song there is to know, but never take requests. Occasionally the boys will trot them out on slow nights at McGinty’s. Doc sings along and adds in the odd “fuck ass” here and there. Rocco drunkenly hums along as best he can. Those are their favorite nights.

 

2.  
Murphy snores.

He’ll swear up and down that he doesn’t, but he does. Most of the time it’s tolerable. Connor can give him a shove or a kick and Murphy will roll over. Usually that quiets the snoring down to congested kitten levels.

It’s way worse when he’s drunk. Rattle the windows and wake the dead snoring. Not something you want to listen to when you have a hangover looming on the horizon.

He didn’t start until he got his nose broken when they were twelve. Murphy happened to be standing behind the kitchen door when Ma opened it a little more forcefully than usual. It was quite the scene. Murphy with blood streaming from his nose onto his shirt, Ma alternating between concern for her son and concern for his clothing and the kitchen floor, and Connor laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

Connor certainly wasn’t laughing the rest of the week. Murph kept him up all night with his snorting and snuffling.

“Ya think if I hit ya in the face again, you’ll quit snoring?” Connor said angrily over breakfast on the third morning.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” said Ma. And that was that. Eventually, Connor got used to it.

 

3.  
They are cat people. They grew up chasing and playing with a scrappy, old barn cat called Norman. The cat didn’t tolerate anyone but the MacManus boys. In the winter, he’d slip into the house and sleep curled on their bed. If it was especially cold, he’d snuggle up between them, purring like a finely tuned engine.

Norman was the best mouser in the county. He could also best most dogs in a fight. A wolfhound bit off most of his tail, but that didn’t slow Norman down one bit. He took his revenge by ruining the wolfhound’s eye.

The cat was already a battle scarred adult when he adopted the MacManus family. He lived a remarkable seven years with them. He didn’t come home one cold winter evening when the boys were nine. They went out searching for him early the next morning. It didn’t take long to find him.

He was lying in the ditch alongside the road that ran closest to their little house. He might have been sleeping except for the blood dried around his nose and mouth and the awkward angle of his neck.

Murphy gently picked up the lifeless body of their dear friend. Connor put an arm around his brother’s shoulders and stroked Norman’s fur. They took him back to the house. Connor stole two pennies from Ma’s purse and placed them on Norman’s eyes. An old towel served as a burial shroud. The ground just beyond the barn was frozen and difficult to dig through, but dig they did.

Norman’s grave was marked with a small cairn of rocks. A cross didn’t seem appropriate as the cat had never been baptised. They said the family prayer and went inside for breakfast.

 

4.  
They went through a phase where they hated being twins. Connor dyed his hair. Not gay, gay, gay, faggoty blond, but a bright, fiery red. Murphy got tattoos that didn’t match Connor’s. The demons on his shoulder blade to remind him of his sins and “Norman” over his heart for the beloved childhood pet.

They didn’t see each other for two months. Of course they missed each other terribly, but both were too stubborn to admit it. Connor wasn’t whole without Murphy and Murphy wasn’t whole without Connor.

What brought them together again left Connor with three pins in his arm and some nasty road rash. He was walking back to his apartment in broad daylight and was hit by a car. The driver took off and left Connor for dead. The luck of the Irish was with him, though. Another pedestrian saw the accident and called the police.

Murphy burst through the doors to the intensive care ward.

“Connor!” he screamed, “Connor!” A burly porter caught him round the shoulders and started dragging him back out. “Where’s Connor?! Connor MacManus!” He kicked and struggled against the porter’s vise-like grip. “He’s my brother! Connor!”

“Just a minute, Mike,” said a grey haired doctor, walking towards them. Murphy stopped struggling. “A Connor MacManus just got out of surgery.”

“SURGERY?!” Murphy started struggling again.

“He had a compound fracture of the right radius and some abrasions,” the doctor explained calmly, “We put some pins in his arm, but he should be well enough to go home in a few days. If you come quietly, I can take you to him.” Murphy stopped fighting against Mike the porter and Mike released him.

The doctor escorted Murphy to the little room where Connor was recovering. There were three other beds in the room only one of those was occupied. Connor appeared to be still asleep. His right arm was wrapped up in bulky bandages. There were some scrapes on his face and one eye looked bruised.

“Connor?” said Murphy in an urgent whisper. He made a move toward his twin, but the doctor caught him by the arm.

“Take it easy,” he instructed, “He’s probably going to be groggy from surgery and pain medication.” Murphy nodded and the doctor let him go. He moved to Connor’s left side and took hold of his hand.

“Connor?” he whispered again.

“Holdin’ my hand?” Connor rasped without opening his eyes, “You a homo now, Murph?” Murphy sighed with relief.

“How ya feelin’, Conn?”

“Like I got hit by a fuckin’ truck.” Connor finally opened his eyes.

“They told me it was a Mini,” Murphy teased.

“Fuck you!” said Connor, “It was an Escort at least!”

“Probably wasn’t a car at all,” Murphy said, barely containing his laughter, “Was probably some wee kid on a bike.” Despite being battered and bruised, Connor still managed to give Murphy a good clip round the ear before they both dissolved into laughter.

When their mirth subsided, Connor pulled Murphy in for a one-armed hug. “Missed you, Murph.”

“Missed you, too, Conn.”

 

+1  
Murphy was born first, but Connor was the first to cry.

Murphy came out limp and blue. They thought he was stillborn. He didn’t cry, didn’t move, and as far as the nurse could tell, didn’t have a pulse. She wasn’t surprised. Mrs. MacManus had gone into labour a month early. This must have been a reason for it. She wrapped the dead infant in a blanket and placed him gently off to the side.

Connor came out red and screaming. They cleaned him off, swaddled him, and placed him on his mother’s breast.

“Where’s t’other one?” Annabelle MacManus asked, examining the squalling newborn she had been presented with, “Where’s Murphy?”

“Mrs. MacManus,” the doctor began gently, “I’m afraid there is some unfortunate news.” Before he could break the news, he was interrupted by a second, thinner wail. The doctor and nurse turned toward the sound and were shocked to see the blanket containing the lifeless infant moving.

“Oh, my Lord!” gasped the nurse as she lunged across the little room. She scooped up the baby and rubbed his back vigorously as she brought him to his mother.

Annabelle held her boys close together. Both calmed. A miracle.

Murphy pinked up quickly and screamed just as loud as his brother. They were taken to be put in incubators until they were strong enough to go home. A little while later, Annabelle was wheeled in to see her sons.

“Oh, for the love of Jaysus, put them together,” Annabelle said in a slightly raised voice so she could be heard above the din of screaming babies (hers and others’), the agitated medical staff, and various beeping monitors. There were some mumbles about it being “against hospital rules” but the twins were moved into one incubator. They quietened immediately much to the relief of the nurses and the dozen or so other infants.

Connor and Murphy MacManus shared a bed every night from the day they were born until the day they couldn’t comfortably fit in the small double bed anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies for any factual inaccuracies contained herein.


End file.
